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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849212">Those High-Heeled Boots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionally_always/pseuds/occasionally_always'>occasionally_always</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Humor, elias and jon get into a contest of Height, there's some of the canon angst but like seriously it's mostly lighthearted and fine, this spans through the season three finale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:27:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionally_always/pseuds/occasionally_always</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts one day when Tim is walking down an institute hallway and passes Elias Bouchard, who is about four inches shorter than usual. Tim’s reaction is rather delayed; at first, he only has a general sense of unease, a feeling that something’s not quite right—but he can’t put his finger on it. Then he looks back and makes eye contact with Bouchard, and realizes with a jolt (first of surprise, then of delight) that he’s looking down.<br/>It starts properly the next week, when Jon comes in wearing boots that are far different from his normal work shoes.<br/>“Are those heeled boots?” gapes Tim.<br/>“Shut up, Tim,” Jon grumbles. “I figure if Elias gets to just make himself taller, I deserve at least an extra half inch.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood &amp; Sasha James &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist &amp; Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>310</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Those High-Heeled Boots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>guess who spent the whole afternoon writing this instead of doing homework haha,,,,,<br/>so much thanks to the discord server that gave me most of the ideas for this!!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It starts one day when Tim is walking down an institute hallway and passes Elias Bouchard, who is about four inches shorter than usual. Tim’s reaction is rather delayed; at first, he only has a general sense of unease, a feeling that something’s not quite right—but he can’t put his finger on it. Then he looks back and makes eye contact with Bouchard, and realizes with a jolt (first of surprise, then of delight) that he’s looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>down</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim, caught up in his moment of revelation that this must have been Bouchard’s true height all along, only realizes he’s been staring when Bouchard coughs pointedly. Tim flashes him a grin that’s distinctly more awkward and less suave than usual, and barely manages to restrain himself from making things a thousand times worse by shooting his boss finger guns, which is Tim’s go-to gesture in socially awkward situations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bouchard just raises his eyebrows in return, and Tim hurries down the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll never believe what I saw,” he says breathlessly, once he’s safe in the archives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Sasha leans forward at her desk, chin in her hands, trying in vain to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> look desperate for whatever gossip Tim has to offer; Jon must have assigned her something really boring today. Luckily for her, her savior is here (at least, that’s how Tim is thinking about it in his head).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I was passing Bouchard on my way back from the library, right,” Tim starts, as in his periphery, Martin scoots his chair over to hear better. “And he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>short</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha gives a shocked little snort-laugh that has Tim’s heart melting. “Elias Bouchard is not </span>
  <em>
    <span>short</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Timothy! Don’t try to pull lies with me.” This is accompanied by a teasing grin, and Tim gives her a grin of his own in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dear Sasha, I would never! I swear to you, that man was at least a few inches shorter than he usually is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D’you think he wears heels or something?” Martin asks, appropriately confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha looks thoughtful. “Aren’t there platform things that go in shoes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim has never heard of ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>platform things</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’ “Uh...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think there are platform </span>
  <em>
    <span>shoes</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Martin muses, “but you can’t just put things like that inside of </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span> shoes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re probably right,” Sasha says. “Okay, so Bouchard wears platform shoes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To make himself taller.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them ponder this for a moment. Tim, Sasha, and Martin are 5’9, 6’0, and 6’2 respectively, and generally find the struggles of short people more entertaining than understandable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Jon! We need your perspective on something!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The five foot four Jonathan Sims emerges from his office at this point in time, looking far too bedraggled to have gotten any sort of good sleep last night. Tim thinks fondly that he needs to take more care of himself, then quickly sweeps that thought aside with a mental broom labeled “</span>
  <em>
    <span>stop having gay thoughts during work hours</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The situation is quickly explained by Sasha, who sounds delighted at having something to “work on” that’s not spooky axolotls or whatever nonsense her current research is about (Tim believes in the supernatural, of course he does, but he’s not gonna act like </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the statements they get are true. It’s much more enjoyable to just make fun of the bullshit ones, something that even Jon joins in on, much to Tim’s pleasure).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re telling me that Elias...he’s…” Jon seems to be at a loss for words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s short, yes,” Tim says, with no small amount of glee. “Maybe even shorter than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you so worked up about this?” Sasha asks Jon, amusement in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not—” Jon sighs. “I just...found him rather intimidating, I suppose, which his height didn’t help. But if he’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found him intimidating but you’re on a first-name basis?” Martin questions, and then immediately flushes upon realizing he’s just spoken to Jon directly. Tim sympathizes; any conversation between Martin and Jon usually ends up with Martin’s head getting bitten off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He told me to call him Elias in the interview, I didn’t know what to do,” defends Jon, who has a bit of a blush himself. “Anyway. You all should be getting back to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he’s disappeared back into his office to the sounds of Tim shuffling some papers around on his desk in a masquerade of productivity, the three assistants return to their conversation in somewhat quieter voices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That must be why,” Sasha says. “Intimidation factor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder why he didn’t today, then,” mumbles Martin quietly, having taken on a chastised expression despite the lack of serious chastising.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well, I suppose some things must remain mysteries,” sighs Sasha dramatically. “Any more gossip for today, Tim?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim shrugs half-heartedly, energy dropping now that they’ve moved on from what he considers to have been the most exciting part of the day so far. “Saw an old guy coming in earlier. He looked like one of those stereotypical sea captains, he had a gross beard and everything. I haven’t seen him before, he can’t be an employee.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh, Peter Lukas,” Sasha says instantly, and both Martin and Tim turn to stare at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t the Lukases big funders of the Institute?” remembers Tim. “How the heck do you know one of them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha shrugs. “I did some research on the important people surrounding the Institute when I thought I was going to get the head archivist job. Saw his picture on the website.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof,” says Tim, leaning back against the wall. (It’s not a very comfortable wall, having various things pinned to it that are now digging into Tim’s back, but he’s committed to this position now and ignores the pain in favor of looking casual.) “So why’s he here?” Before they can respond, a brilliant idea comes to him, as they so often do—“Wait, hang on, I’m gonna go find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” says Sasha, in her Tim-this-is-a-bad-idea-and-I-don’t-even-know-what-it-is-yet voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax, I’m just going to walk by </span>
  <em>
    <span>Elias’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> office, see if I can run into either of them. Then I have more information on that Lukas guy and-or get to see our double-boss being short again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna what,” repeats Sasha, now in her Tim-this-is-a-bad-idea-but-I-secretly-love-it-and-really-don’t-want-to-have-to-be-your-impulse-control-this-time voice, and Tim considers this enough of an approval to be a victory for him. “Ta-ta!” he says, and dances his way out of the archives, shooting Sasha and a horrified Martin finger guns as he goes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately, for Martin’s sanity anyway— Tim does not run into either Lukas or Elias (he’s decided that if Jon gets to refer to Elias that way, so does he). He does, however, happen to hear them in the middle of a heated conversation as he walks slowly by Elias’s closed office door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re just here to make fun of me, Peter,” hisses Elias. Tim comes to a stop, feeling like he’s struck gold. Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is prime gossip material.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now Elias, why would I put myself through such social interaction just for that?” says a calm and unfamiliar voice, one that must belong to Peter Lukas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I find that hard to believe. You’re only five foot three, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim chokes on his sudden laughter, trying so hard to hold it in that he finds himself bent over double and wheezing desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want another divorce,” Elias says crisply, and Tim, tears of both laughter and pure shock coming out of his eyes now, backs away from the door until he reaches the entrance to the stairwell, at which point he turns and runs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bursts through the door of the archives with absolutely no regard for anything other than what he has discovered, and once Jon, Sasha, and Martin are all before him, watching as he pants with exertion and wipes still-flowing tears from eyes, he reveals what he overheard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>married?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Sasha practically yells. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Another divorce?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Meanwhile, Martin has his face in his hands, in what Tim can only assume is a moment of existential crisis. Jon, on the other hand, only starts to look interested once Tim mentions what Lukas said about Elias’s height, and disappears into his office with a thoughtful expression that speaks of many gossip-worthy events to come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It starts </span>
  <em>
    <span>properly </span>
  </em>
  <span>the next week, when Jon comes in wearing boots that are far different from his normal work shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are those </span>
  <em>
    <span>heeled boots</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” gapes Tim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Tim,” Jon grumbles. “I figure if Elias gets to just make himself taller, I deserve at least an extra half inch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They really are only heeled by half an inch, but it delights Tim to no end; he is further delighted when Jon continues to come into work with the boots on, after numerous compliments from Sasha, Tim, and even Martin, that are obviously exaggerated but make Jon blush nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Jon has a meeting with Elias at the end of the month, and the next day, he comes in with three-inch heels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, still feeling too intimated?” Tim teases, although he’s dying internally (the no-gay-thoughts broom has long since given up on its futile job).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not any more,” Jon says firmly, and closes his office door behind him. Tim exchanges an awed look with Sasha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By this point, Jon is much closer to Tim’s height than he was before, which is disconcerting to say the least. It actually seems to have helped Jon’s grumpiness, though; he’s much less mean to Martin when he’s only five inches shorter than him as opposed to ten. The archives still retain their balance of three tall people and one not-as-tall person, and Tim waits in anticipation for the day when Jon gives up on wedge heels and comes in with stilettos. (Yes, this is very unlikely to happen, but a man can dream, Sasha.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias, when Tim has seen him, has not yet come in again without his fancy fake-tall-person shoes, which Tim can now recognize as having a mix of heel and platform. It’s really rather impressive, the dedication Elias has put into being tall. Tim would say the same about Jon, except apparently Jon had owned the boots already; when questioned about them, he’d only muttered something about “having them from my uni days” and disappeared into his office with a pile of statements and a cup of tea that had been steeped so long it looked almost as dark as coffee. Either way, Elias Bouchard is now half an inch shorter than Jon, and Tim revels in this when Elias comes down to the archives one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just checking in on how things are going,” he says smoothly, standing in front of Jon’s desk with his hands folded behind his back. The assistants watch through the open office door with anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Jon replies. “Let me show you the filing system we’ve sorted out.” He stands from behind his desk and walks around it to lead Elias from his office.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The look of shock on Elias’s face when Jon passes by him in all his 5’7 glory is something Tim will savor for the rest of his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only gets better from there (or worse, depending on how you think about it; for example, it’s better because Jon in heels is the most aesthetically pleasing thing Tim has ever set eyes on, but it’s worse because this leads to Tim’s definitely-not-a-crush-shut-up-Martin morphing into a okay-maybe-it’s-kind-of-a-crush-shut-up-Martin). Elias will come down to “check up on the archives,” and he’ll be just slightly taller than Jon; then, on the day of the next meeting between the two of them, Jon will come in with heels even higher than usual. Tim has no idea how either of them have the money to keep this up, but he’s not complaining. This is quality entertainment, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s slightly less entertaining when the day comes where Jon is as tall as Tim. “You’re going to be the shortest one in the archives soon,” Sasha teases, ruffling Tim’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re only an inch taller than me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sasha</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Tim grumbles, but he’s only half-paying attention to the conversation, because Jon has just walked by in his 5-inch combat boots. Martin makes a muffled noise across the room, face buried in his hands as it so often is these days. His cheeks are extremely red when he finally looks up, and Tim and Martin carefully avoid each other’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re both idiots,” says Sasha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Sasha, you have to admit he’s—” Tim chokes on his own sentence in an effort to stop the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span> from coming out.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I mean, obviously. I’m just not going to drool over him like you two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim thinks he should take offense to this, but he’s busy listening to the click-</span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Jon’s heels on the wood floor of his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idiots,” Sasha sighs fondly, and ruffles Tim’s hair yet again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim isn’t a coward. This is why he’s wearing stilettos.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span>“Tim, you’re a coward,” Sasha observes calmly from her desk. “Just accept that it’s okay to be short.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’m not short!” bristles Tim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, at this point, relatively speaking…” starts Martin, but he trails off when Tim shoots him a glare. “Um, but I like your heels!” he squeaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, Marto,” says Tim. “You’re the only one who understands me.” His glare is redirected at Sasha, who only laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re legally not allowed to ruffle my hair any more,” he tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs again, louder this time. “You wish, Timothy Stoker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim is suddenly afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what if we kept track of our heights?” Martin says suddenly. “And Mr. Bouchard’s, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about, Martin,” Sasha teases, “I should hope </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> not going to get taller.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not mine, then,” blushes Martin. “I just thought it would be a fun idea or something, I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s genius,” agrees Tim. “Hang on, let me draw up a chart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kind of gets way too into it, because by the end, he’s used at least six colors of Martin’s glittery pens and wasted three pieces of poster paper making rough drafts, but it’s worth it. The chart hangs proudly on the wall by the door to the archives, and Jon, Martin, and Sasha all seem to appreciate its beauty as much as Tim was hoping they would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>appreciative</span>
  </em>
  <span> might not be the quite the word for Jon’s reaction, as the only thing he actually said was “You’d better put that somewhere Elias can’t see it;” that’s a pretty big mark of approval from someone like Jon, though, so Tim buys a frame for his artwork the next afternoon and sets it carefully on his own desk facing the wall. He’ll have to take it out of the frame to update the heights, of course, but that’s okay; he can bear the weight of inconvenience for the sake of his framed masterpiece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It ends up being not only a competition between Jon and Elias, but with Tim and Sasha in the mix as well. Tim finds he greatly enjoys wearing pumps, especially shiny, gaudy ones; he has at least five pairs now, all of varying colors and patterns. The custom-design Hawaiian flower ones are his favorite, but the leopard print pair is a close second. Sasha joined in once Tim was two inches taller than her, and it's quite satisfying to know she's not immune to the frustration of being short (or, well, what constitutes as short in the archives these days.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three out of four of the archives crew wears heels daily now, and this seems to give Martin more confidence as well; instead of slouching to tone down his height like he did when he first started working there, he now stands straight and tall, not bothering to hide his largeness anymore. He’s smiling more, too, and so is Jon, and their smiles are so beautiful that Tim can’t help but be thankful to whatever gods are out there for the day that Elias Bouchard forgot to pretend to be tall. He’s even seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sasha</span>
  </em>
  <span> get flustered by a particularly happy smile of Jon’s one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The few people who have come in to give their statements seem disconcerted by the height of everyone in the archives, and the constant clacking of heels against the floor, but honestly, Tim finds it comforting. It’s who they are, a gang of tall people with clacky heels (well, Martin doesn’t have the clacky heels part down, but Tim has faith that they’ll rope him into it someday), and it makes Tim feel delightfully warm and fizzy and bubbly inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets so used to walking around in stilettos that running ends up being not much harder, when he actually has to do it. Of course, it’s the second-most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to him, “chased by a worm woman” being listed right underneath “watching Danny (except not Danny??) get his skin pulled off,” but hey, at least he doesn’t have to take his Hawaiian-print heels off while he runs and leave them to Jane Prentiss and her crazy worms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha gets separated from him for a minute, and his terror goes up by about three times, but she collides with him again a few moments later. “I heard your goddamn heels echoing down the hallways,” she says breathlessly, and his laugh is way too terrified and way too loud, but at least he can still laugh, at least he’s not having a full-on breakdown quite yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he says, frantically, forcing the words out around the fear of never getting to say them. Sasha groans at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, I love you too, but we have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she says, and tugs him into action; Tim nearly trips over himself as they start to run again. He keeps replaying her words in his head, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you too I love you too I love you too</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he doesn’t feel so afraid any more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After it’s all over, after they’ve been through enough chaos for a lifetime—worms and tunnels and corpses, oh my!—the four of them sit on the floor of Jon’s office, because they feel safer when they’re together and where they can keep an eye on the previously quite worm-y hole in the wall. Regardless of how capable Tim is of running in heels, his feet </span>
  <em>
    <span>ache</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and apparently so do everyone else’s, because their shoes are all off an in a pile in the center of their little circle—Tim’s garish pumps, Sasha’s maroon block heels, Jon’s wedged boots, and Martin’s trainers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you guys,” Tim says drowsily, leaning against Martin’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s being more affectionate than usual,” Sasha tells the other two. “It’s kind of cute, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well.” Jon’s face is redder than usual, Tim notes sleepily. “You, ah, you too, Tim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin gives an awkward cough. “Yes, um, yes. That!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martin!” says Tim suddenly at the sound of his voice, sitting up straight, although he’s swaying a bit from his exhaustion and the lingering effects of the CO2. “Why don’t you wear heels?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha chokes on a laugh, and even Jon snorts a bit. Martin flushes. “Um, I’m tall enough, Tim,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Tim says firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...No?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim is too tired to argue his case any further, so he just slides back down into Martin’s side, and lets himself drift off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wakes again when Elias comes down to check in on them. Jon and Elias discuss the EDCD, and agree on Elias getting the assistants’ accounts of what happened tomorrow. Elias hesitates at the door before leaving, sparing their motley group a glance that feels rather judgmental to Tim, before his gaze lands on the pile of shoes. Tim carefully watches the subtle sequence of events that happens next: Elias focusing in on the shoes, specifically Jon’s pair; Elias raising his eyebrows before nodding to himself; Jon staring at him as he does so; Jon’s own eyebrows drawing together in a look of grim determination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day, Elias comes down to the archives to hear a more detailed version of the events that have taken place. His low-cut boots are daring enough that they’re the first thing Tim notices; the platforms are more noticeable than ever, and Elias is probably taller than Tim’s shoeless height by this point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, Tim is even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> taller than Tim’s shoeless height, and he takes great delight in this fact as he welcomes Elias into the archives. Sasha and Martin are standing in wait, and Martin is nearly an inch taller than usual, as he had apparently finally decided to join in; he’s wearing slight heels that delight Tim to no end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Jon comes out of his office, wearing platform boots with seven-inch stilettos. Tim had updated the height chart that morning, and it puts Jon at 5’11; unfortunately for Elias, this is a victory for Jon yet again. It’s also a victory for Tim, who’s been waiting for a stiletto-filled day like this to come for weeks now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Elias,” says Jon, a slight smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias seems to be struggling for words quite a bit. “Hello, Jon,” he finally says. “Well, shall we talk about what happened yesterday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Sasha says easily, and begins to tell her version of events. None of them make a move to sit down. Tim watches Elias’s expression with sadistic delight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A memo is sent down to them later that afternoon, a reminder on the Institute’s dress code policy. The ban of heels taller than two inches are on that list, and Martin, who’s reading the paper out loud to all of them, nearly knocks over his tea in surprise when he reaches that part, which is apparently highlighted for their reading convenience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a hypocrite,” Sasha says scornfully. “I think that rule’s always been there, too, it’s not just because of us. He just wants to be the tallest one in the Institute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sucks for him,” Tim crows. “We’ve got him beat by ages.” He winks at Jon from across the room, and Jon runs a hand over his face and says something muffled through his fingers that sounds an awful lot like “stop it, Tim,” but Tim decides it’s probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> something like “I love you Tim marry me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin continues reading to reveal that </span>
  <em>
    <span>not only</span>
  </em>
  <span> are tall heels banned, but any and all stilettos, and Tim cheers at their rule-challenging success in this regard—“Guess him not being able to fire us is good for </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, huh?” He does a little leg kick to accentuate his point, and nearly falls over, much to everyone else’s amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chart with all their ever-increasing heights on it gets hung up in plain view next to the archives door again. Just in case Elias ever needs a reminder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole debacle with Jurgen Leitner leaves them all with quite a few answers and quite a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of questions. And it didn’t even get Elias in jail, even though Sasha caught him on his way out of the archives, standing in the doorway at her current height of 6’3 to block him as he left Jon’s office with a bloody pipe in his hands. He’d pulled some strings with the police and now they weren’t even investigating it, something which Tim can tell that Jon is finding extremely frustrating, especially in light of the knowledge Leitner had imparted about the entities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, how tall do you think Elias is now? With the shoes he has?” Tim asks the archives crew at large one day, attempting to distract them from the heaviness that’s been hanging over them all for a few days now. Jon and Elias have been at a stalemate for a while now, and Tim wants to get into the lightheartedness of the Height Thing™ again. They all need it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How </span>
  <em>
    <span>short</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you mean,” Martin corrects, and Sasha laughs. Jon looks thoughtful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hang on,” he says. “Let me…” His eyes close, and a look of such intense concentration comes across his face that Tim tenses just watching him. It takes Tim a few moments to realize the reason his head is starting to hurt is because of the sound of static slowly taking over the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon lets out a groan of frustration after a staticky moment of invisible contemplation. “He won’t let me Know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tried to use your spooky powers to know how tall Elias is?” exclaims Sasha, looking startled and a little in awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Tried’ being the key word there. I think he could tell and stopped me, or it just wouldn’t let me see for whatever reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Eye’s a bitch,” nods Tim sagely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon starts trying to find out this tidbit of information at least once a day; he’s strangely dedicated to it. Elias is avoiding the archives, so Tim figures it’s gotta all be because he hasn’t been able to get shoes that will make him taller than Jon. Then one day, Jon groans so loud that Tim can hear it through the closed office door, and he knows that Elias must have reached over 5’11 at last and that Jon is finally being allowed to Know this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s coming down here,” Jon says, emerging from his office with a furious expression. “Tim, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting on your shoulders,” he says impatiently. “Quick, before Elias gets here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim hasn’t quite processed this yet, but he obligingly bends down so that Jon can swing his legs over Tim’s shoulders. Tim stands with no small amount of effort—especially with his stilettos digging into the carpet and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jon’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> stilettos digging into his skin—but Jon uses a hand to steady them against the wall; they’re balanced fairly well, Jon even reaching for something on top of the tall filing cabinet in the corner to occupy him while they wait, when Elias finally comes through the door, his shoes loud enough to note his arrival seconds before they can see him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jon, get down,” Elias says immediately, and Tim smiles widely at him, tightening his grip on Jon’s ankles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m now seven feet and five inches. I don’t think I will. Did you need something, Elias?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias gives a deep, deep sigh that sounds like it’s trying to cover up his panic by channeling the energy of an evil immortal with a superiority complex. Jon interjects again before he can speak, though. “Would you mind grabbing that paper on top of the filing cabinet for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias must know that to deny this request would be to admit defeat, because he complies; unfortunately, he cannot, in fact, grab the paper on top of the filing cabinet. It is rather entertaining to watch him try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, it feels ever so nice to be seven feet and five inches tall,” Jon sighs, more smug than Tim has </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> heard him, and reaches over to get the paper for himself; Tim adjusts his stance accordingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias looks close to fuming. “Of course you aren’t, Jon. Now get down so that we can talk properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does it feel to know the Eye says I’m taller than you?” says Jon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias turns around and leaves without saying another word, and Tim is barely able to hold in his laughter until Elias is out of earshot. Then he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>cackling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, shaking with the force of his sheer amusement. Jon half-slides, half-topples off of his shoulders, looking chagrined at having to leave his perch, but Tim can tell he’s also brimming with elation. It’s such an adorable look on him, and Tim’s smile grows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll send you the video,” Sasha says from her desk, and Tim jumps as he realizes she’s there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Jon says, so professionally that Tim breaks into laughter again. Martin is laughing too, from his own desk; by the time Melanie King comes down to the archives half an hour later, the four of them are all seated at their desks again, but they’re still breaking into occasional peals of laughter every time they remember Elias’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um...hi,” she says cautiously, and slightly judgmentally, Tim thinks with offense. “I...have a job here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mood darkens instantly. “Now he’s just trying to piss us off,” Sasha exclaims.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon had come out of his office a second before Melanie opened the door, and they all explain everything to her in overlapping sentences and with interjections of what a bitch Elias is. She’s right angry by the end of it, but Martin pulls them all back from that place of dark frustration by asking her how tall she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um—what?” she says, caught off guard. “Is this about that thing you have on the wall? And the heels?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim puffs up with pride at her acknowledgement of his work. “It is!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s a part of it,” amends Sasha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More explanation takes place now, and Melanie starts to brighten a little. “Oh, I like this,” she says, and next day comes in with stilettos that have knives taped to the backs of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just so he knows how I feel about him,” she mutters, and Jon chokes on the tea Martin had given him that morning. Sasha nods appreciatively. Tim adds a column to the height chart. Melanie is still inches shorter than the rest of them, but she's certainly not 4'11 any more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias avoids the archives for a whole month after that, and Tim has a feeling he knows why. He passes by the man’s office once or twice, just to see if he can run into the man to gloat. Elias is probably using his spooky Eye powers to avoid him, though, so that doesn’t happen, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen to overhear one side of a phone conversation that’s apparently emotional enough that Elias isn’t paying attention to who’s outside his office. It goes something like this:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just listen to me...yes, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> we’re divorced right now, but I forgive you or whatever...what do you mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one who filed the papers this time? You’re wrong, but it doesn’t matter, just marry me so that you can come back here...you don’t under</span>
  <em>
    <span>stand</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Peter, I need to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>tall</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim was already struggling to hold back laughter, and the mental image of Elias on Peter’s shoulders just so that he can be taller than Jon is just about enough to send him over the edge. In a moment of deja vu, he wheezes his way back down to the archives before cracking up so much that he can’t speak through his laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon the rest of the archives hearing this exchange, a copy of the height chart is printed out and superglued to the wall across from Elias’s office. It has him at a meager five foot eleven-and-a-half.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Life in the archives goes on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim and Jon use their combined height several times in the future, to annoy Elias in a more indirect way—they sneak into his office after hours, and tape his office supplies up on his walls close to the ceiling. ("He won't be able to reach," Jon says confidently, eyes glowing briefly as the Eye apparently confirms this information, and Tim looks on in awe.) Melanie seems confident enough in her sole pair of pink knife-heels, not gaining height past 5'4, and no one bothers commenting on her continual shortness, because they all know she wouldn't hesitate to untape a knife or two and stab them for it. Elias ropes a couple of police officers, the ones that had investigated Gertrude Robinson's murder, into getting jobs in the archives as well, but the crew (now up to seven including Daisy and Basira) don't let it get to them like he's undoubtedly aiming to do. Basira and Daisy don’t join in on the height competition, but it’s not too much of a competition any more, and no one would ever beat Martin anyway—something that, Tim notes happily, he’s actually seemed more pleased than embarrassed about these days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, everything’s relatively okay—you know, aside from the foot pain caused by wearing heels all day, but they’ve started leaving their shoes off until Jon Sees Elias coming, so it’s not as bad as it could be. Then one day, when Melanie, Basira, and Daisy are all out looking into a statement about a game of tag that passes on the energy of the Hunt and leaves a lot of dead bodies behind it—Basira and Daisy had decided to try and put a stop to it, and Melanie wanted to get something from the sandwich shop, so she went with them—Jon comes out of his office wearing his spectacularly tall boots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Elias coming?” Sasha asks, already standing with heels in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no,” Jon assures them, looking kind of sheepish. “Actually, I just needed to be tall for something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aww,” she teases, and he huffs at her. “You could’ve just asked one of us to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> still need you for this,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim, who’s been lounging against the wall (it’s as uncomfortable as ever, but sacrifices must be made when one feels the need to lounge) in a state of boredom generated by not wanting to do work but also not feeling particularly inclined to join Melanie, Basira, and Daisy’s mission of death and sandwiches, steps forward. “Sure thing, boss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon, who’s blushing more than Tim thinks is necessary for needing help to get something from a shelf or whatever he needs to do, rolls his eyes and steps up to meet Tim. He places his fingers under Tim’s chin, the points of contact warm and sending flutters down to Tim’s heart, and tilts his chin up—Tim! Looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>up!</span>
  </em>
  <span> At </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jon!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what,” Tim says, before Jon renders him fully speechless with a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It lasts no more than a couple seconds, but Tim is internally dying by the end of it, and Jon’s little smile makes his knees even weaker and his head even dizzier. “You’re pretty,” Tim says, because it’s the only coherent thing he can think of to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, move it,” Sasha laughs, and bumps him to the side. “It’s my turn. Jon, kiss me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon obliges, and then he obliges for Martin too, and then Sasha kisses everyone on the cheek, and Martin kisses Tim on the cheek, and Tim kisses Jon on the cheek in a surprisingly successful attempt to fluster him back, and now that they’ve all kissed each other the mood in the archives is instantly a hundred times brighter, easily outglowing the flickering fluorescent light that Elias consistently refuses to replace for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Jon says. “Back to work, everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> go back to work, though; Tim resumes loitering against the pokey wall, and Sasha sits down at her desk and stares off into the distance, and Martin smiles adorably into his cup of tea, and Jon shuts his office door to do whatever spooky stuff Tim’s sure he’s doing in there. And every few minutes, Sasha and Tim and Martin exchange pleased, blushing looks, and Tim again is thankful to whatever (albeit sketchy) gods are out there for the day that Elias Bouchard forgot to pretend to be tall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Unknowing is getting closer, and Tim feels more on edge than he has in—months, it’s been months, he realizes with slight surprise. Jon is traveling the world to find answers that probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> solve things the way everyone is hoping they will, and the only people Jon’s absence seems to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>helping</span>
  </em>
  <span> are Daisy and Basira, who’ve been getting pretty fed up with his increasing spooky powers (in a way that doesn’t help their relationship with the original assistants). And then there’s the Unknowing itself, and its connection to Danny’s death, and the grief and anger that’s been boiling up in Tim all over again, as intense as the first weeks after his brother was...gone. It’s not as harsh, though, not as abrasive; Sasha and Martin have been making sure Tim knows when he’s gone too far, said something too hurtful, and they’ve been making sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> know when he needs to be left alone, or grounded with physical contact, or distracted from the thoughts and emotions that have been trying to tear him apart with renewed ferocity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least Jon seems to be having fun, because he sounds pretty excited over the phone when Tim calls him for an update. “Gerry is so much cooler in real life, and he’s been helping the entities make a lot more sense to me, and also he’s going to show me this Hot Topic that’s nearby—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, woah, wait, slow down,” says Tim, who’s mental processing speed is, on average, quite a bit slower than this conversation is turning out to require. “Who’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gerry?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Gerard Keay, he’s in some of the statements. Anyway, he’s kind of a book of the End now, but he can still, er, talk? And we had a pretty good conversation. The Hunters let him out for a bit in exchange for my cooperation—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is so much to unpack here that Tim briefly considers hanging up just so that he doesn’t have to try. “Um, sounds fun, boss,” he says slowly, trying not to let his frustration at being so inadvertently out of the loop show through his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to call me that, Tim,” Jon sighs, and Tim grits his teeth against the suddenly vexing tone of voice that’s currently coming through the tinny phone speaker. The conversation does not go on smoothly or for long after that, but Tim texts an apology to Jon the day afterwards, and receives one back, so it’s...it’s okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the day of Jon’s return, Elias is waiting in the archives, which has everyone’s teeth on edge. The man’s shoes don’t appear to have increased in height, but there will be around an inch of difference that Jon only escaped last time by getting on Tim’s shoulders, unless Jon somehow got even taller boots.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heads up</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tim texts Jon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s wearing The Shoes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon, as it turns out, somehow got even taller boots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re black, and glossy, and laced up to his knees; the platform has got to be at least five inches, and the heels are nearly twice as tall, so by the end of it Jon is at least nine inches above 5’4. Perhaps these are courtesy of Gerard Keay, although Tim remembers the statements describing him more as “goth” than “murderous stripper.” Elias doesn’t outwardly react, but Tim is pretty sure that internally, he’s cowering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s taller, Martin,” Jon says sharply, not taking his eyes off of Elias, who steps forward to meet him, their heads so close to the same height that Tim honestly can’t tell himself. The rest of the archives is completely silent, except for the click-</span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Jon’s heels that keeps replaying and echoing in Tim’s mind. The crew of hodge-podge assistants has formed a ring around Jon and Elias, and even Basira and Daisy are watching with staring eyes and bated breath. Due to Melanie buying a special pair of heels in anticipation of Jon’s return, no one in the archives is below 5’8, which does not exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span> the atmosphere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, Jon, it’s okay to concede defeat,” Elias responds archly. “This has been a silly little game, but I was always going to win it in the end. There’s no need to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elias, the Unknowing is in three days, at which point there is a very high chance I will die. Martin. Who’s. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Taller</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tension is palpable enough that Tim can taste it on his tongue, bitter yet enticing. No one speaks. No one </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Martin, his height added to by the four-inch heels he’d been working his way up to, walks to them in all his curly-haired, fuzzy-sweatered, 6’5 glory, and stares at them for about a second before he breaks down laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he cries, “it’s just that you’re both still so </span>
  <em>
    <span>short</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The static that fills the room is so loud and abrupt that Tim nearly stumbles and twists his ankle; he catches himself against the wall with one hand and covers an ear with the other. It doesn’t help. Elias’s glare only adds to the barrage, and this goes on for a few long moments until Melanie finally gives in to what Tim is sure has been an urge for some time, ripping the knife from one of her heels and throwing it straight at Elias’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the blazes,” cries Elias, the static vanishing and leaving Tim’s ears ringing in its wake. The knife has nicked his cheek before it clattered to the floor, and Melaine watches the trickle of blood trail down his face with a look of furious satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martin, I will kick you,” Jon says solemnly, and Martin covers his mouth with one hand to stifle his giggles. Tim decides to intervene before Martin ends up with a gash in his leg or Jon ends up tripped on the floor, because those are really the only two ways this could go if Jon decides to carry out his threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jon, darling,” he says in his poshest, most Jon-like voice, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t do that. Nice boots, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Jon replies mutinously, still glaring at Martin, and Tim takes it upon himself to kiss the glare from Jon’s face. Then Sasha comes up from behind and hugs the both of them, and Martin joins in as well, and the four of them are sharing a rather lovely group hug when Melanie storms Elias out of the archives. Basira and Daisy are sitting in the corner watching all of this go down with the half-bemused, half-resigned expressions that are so frequently on their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the next few hours, findings are shared, theories are discussed, and decisions are made. Most everyone heads home by the end of the day, including Tim, who’s getting way too overwhelmed. He can hear Sasha and Jon talking about Gertrude as he heads out of the archives, and hopes they don’t stay too late, but knows them both better than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The following days pass extremely slowly and also way too fast, and then they’re outside of the wax museum in Great Yarmouth, detonators and heels and all. Not the regular heels, of course, just inch-high pumps that might even pass the institute dress code, and that one inch is enough to produce that familiar clacking sound that the archives team find so comforting now. It makes Tim feel more confident, to be that much taller, and to be wearing shoes that much brighter than Nikola Orsinov’s fucking lipstick, and to be that much more a </span>
  <em>
    <span>part</span>
  </em>
  <span> of something—something that’s like family to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the Unknowing starts, it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrifying</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s the whole point of it, isn’t it, but he doesn’t have the capacity to do that kind of reflection, he only has the capacity for the fear that rushes through his brain and bones and blood. And then Jon meets his eyes, and presses the button for the detonator.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s been in a coma for months. Jon, that is. And Tim knows, rationally, that if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been the one to blow it all up, he’d be dead, not just in a coma, but he still wishes </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> could have pressed the button. Gotten his revenge on the most personal level possible, and also saved Jon from whatever freaky brain-alive thing is going on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim and Sasha and Martin are doing okay, though, when they don’t have to be reminded of Jon or look at Elias Bouchard’s self-satisfied face. Basira’s been struggling without Daisy, but Melanie’s befriended her well enough; their bond over their mutual dislike of Jon has apparently been enough to keep their respective mental health from completely going to the gutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basically, the archives crew is getting through it (semi-)together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On their first day back at work after the Unknowing, littered in scrapes and sprains and also wounds that go deeper than skin and bones, sitting wearily at their desks with bare feet and hurting eyes, Elias had come up to them, congratulating them on a “job well done.” It had been infuriating, and the worst part was, for some reason, the fact that he was back to wearing his original shoes—the ones that made him only four or so inches taller. It just rubbed in the fact that Jon wasn’t there to make Elias feel short, and it got to everyone so bad that the next day, even Daisy and Basira were wearing high heels. The unspoken but collective attempt to make Elias feel as intimidated as possible had some degree of success in that he didn’t go down to the archives again, presumably after Seeing their footwear and making the wise decision to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> face them in person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Georgie Barker comes to visit them once, Melanie in particular, and the person from research who showed her to the archives spends a solid two minutes staring in shock at their heels before turning away with a muttered comment about how they can’t even wear a casual shirt without being dress-coded. Georgie refrains from making any comments of her own, despite being at least a foot shorter than many of them, and Tim decides he likes her immediately, especially when she tells them about what Jon was like in uni.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why he had those shoes?” gapes Sasha. Melanie cackles in the background, no doubt compiling a mental list of blackmail, and Martin and Tim exchange quick glances of </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh-shit-we’re-gay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Basira sighs loudly in the corner as she attempts to read a book that most likely demands a level of silence they are not providing, but Tim knows that if she really wanted to, she would just find another room. It makes him happy to think about how they’re all sticking together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, after almost seven months of waiting for Jon to wake up, or even just get a heartbeat again, Elias makes his way down to the archives. Sasha notifies them with her Eye powers, being the most tied to it after Jon with her natural curiosity, and Tim slips on his heels wearily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe he awoke this morning,” Elias says simply; “I’m sure he’ll be here within the next day or so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all exchange glances, although most of them probably mean completely different things, Tim’s own expression being one of quite a few different emotions all jumbled together into something that could perhaps be summarized with a strangled scream of ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>JONJONJON</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I must say, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> impressed with his progress. Delighted, even,” continues Elias, far too smug for Tim’s taste. “Please notify him when he returns that I would like to see him in my office at his convenience.” That smugness is practically dripping from his words, and Tim is so tense that it takes him a moment to register the sound he’s hearing in the background of Elias’s voice; a familiar click-</span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> that can really only mean one thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” snaps Jon from behind Elias, glaring down at him from half a foot above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias visibly falters, and turns so slowly that Tim would find it extremely comedic if he wasn’t busy staring at the pure, god-tier being that is Jon, alive, with slightly glowing eyes and in those all-too-familiar heeled boots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps another day, then,” murmurs Elias, and brushes past Jon before Tim can properly enjoy his humiliation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bitch,” calls out Melanie after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there is silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Jon says finally, voice still tinged with residue anger. “That was satisfying.” He stalks over to his office, and closes the door behind him, leaving Tim staring after him and suddenly very, very thankful that he wasn’t the one to have pressed the button and blown himself up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, of course, very, very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> thankful to the evil gods that are out there for the day that Elias Bouchard forgot to pretend to be tall.</span>
</p>
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